The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Iii Part 58

_Bred_. Yes, Madam; and at the door encountred the beastly thing he calls a Landlady; who lookt as if she had been of her own Husband's making, compos'd of moulded Smith's Dust. I ask'd for Mr. _Wasteall_, and she began to open--and did so rail at him, that what with her _Billinsgate_, and her Husband's hammers, I was both deaf and dumb--at last the hammers ceas'd, and she grew weary, and call'd down Mr.

_Wasteall_; but he not answering--I was sent up a Ladder rather than a pair of Stairs; at last I scal'd the top, and enter'd the inchanted Castle; there did I find him, spite of the noise below, drowning his Cares in Sleep.

L. _Ful_. Whom foundst thou? _Gayman_?

_Bred_. He, Madam, whom I waked--and seeing me, Heavens, what Confusion seiz'd him! which nothing but my own Surprize could equal. Asham'd--he wou'd have turn'd away; But when he saw, by my dejected Eyes, I knew him, He sigh'd, and blusht, and heard me tell my Business: Then beg'd I wou'd be secret; for he vow'd his whole Repose and Life depended on my silence. Nor had I told it now, But that your Ladyship may find some speedy means to draw him from this desperate Condition.

L. _Ful_. Heavens, is't possible?

_Bred_. He's driven to the last degree of Poverty-- Had you but seen his Lodgings, Madam!

L. _Ful_. What were they?

_Bred_. 'Tis a pretty convenient Tub, Madam. He may lie a long in't, there's just room for an old join'd Stool besides the Bed, which one cannot call a Cabin, about the largeness of a Pantry Bin, or a Usurer's Trunk; there had been Dornex Curtains to't in the days of Yore; but they were now annihilated, and nothing left to save his Eyes from the Light, but my Landlady's Blue Ap.r.o.n, ty'd by the strings before the Window, in which stood a broken six-penny Looking-Gla.s.s, that shew'd as many Faces as the Scene in _Henry_ the Eighth, which could but just stand upright, and then the Comb-Case fill'd it.

L. _Ful_. What a leud Description hast thou made of his Chamber?

_Bred_. Then for his Equipage, 'tis banisht to one small Monsieur, who (saucy with his Master's Poverty) is rather a Companion than a Footman.

L. _Ful_. But what said he to the Forfeiture of his Land?

_Bred_. He sigh'd and cry'd, Why, farewel dirty Acres; It shall not trouble me, since 'twas all but for Love!

L. _Ful_. How much redeems it?

_Bred_. Madam, five hundred Pounds.

L. _Ful_. Enough--you shall in some disguise convey this Money to him, as from an unknown hand: I wou'd not have him think it comes from me, for all the World: That Nicety and Virtue I've profest, I am resolved to keep.

_Pert_. If I were your Ladyship, I wou'd make use of Sir _Cautious's_ Cash: pay him in his own Coin.

_Bred_. Your Ladyship wou'd make no Scruple of it, if you knew how this poor Gentleman has been us'd by my unmerciful Master.

L. _Ful_. I have a Key already to his Counting-House; it being lost, he had another made, and this I found and kept.

_Bred_. Madam, this is an excellent time for't, my Master being gone to give my Sister _Leticia_ at Church.

L. _Ful_. 'Tis so, I'll go and commit the Theft, whilst you prepare to carry it, and then we'll to dinner with your Sister the Bride.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE III. _The House of Sir_ Feeble.

_Enter Sir_ Feeble, Leticia, _Sir_ Cautious, Bearjest, Diana, Noisey.

_Sir_ Feeble _sings and salutes 'em_.

Sir _Feeb_. Welcome, _Joan Sanderson_, welcome, welcome. [_Kisses the Bride_. Ods bobs, and so thou art, Sweet-heart. [_So to the rest_.

_Bear_. Methinks my Lady Bride is very melancholy.

Sir _Cau_. Ay, ay, Women that are discreet, are always thus upon their Wedding-day.

Sir _Feeb_. Always by day-light, Sir _Cautious_.

_But when bright_ Phoebus _does retire, To_ Thetis' _Bed to quench his fire.

And do the thing we need not name, We Mortals by his influence do the same.

Then then the blushing Maid lays by Her simpering, and her Modesty; And round the Lover clasps and twines Like Ivy, or the circling Vines_.

Sir _Feeb_. Here, _Ralph_, the Bottle, Rogue, of Sack, ye Rascal; hadst thou been a Butler worth hanging, thou wou'dst have met us at the door with it.--Ods bods, Sweet-heart, thy health.

_Bear_. Away with it, to the Bride's _Haunce in Kelder_.

Sir _Feeb_. Gots so, go to, Rogue, go to, that shall be, Knave, that shall be the morrow morning; he--ods bobs, we'll do't, Sweet heart; here's to't. [_Drinks again_.

_Let_. I die but to imagine it, wou'd I were dead indeed.

Sir _Feeb_. Hah--hum--how's this? Tears upon the Wedding day? Why, why--you Baggage, you, ye little Thing, Fools-face--away, you Rogue, you're naughty, you're naughty. [_Patting and playing, and following her_. Look--look--look now,--buss it--buss it--buss it--and Friends; did'ums, did'ums beat its none silly Baby--away, you little Hussey, away, and pledge me-- [_She drinks a little_.

Sir _Cau_. A wise discreet Lady, I'll warrant her; my Lady would prodigally have took it off all.

Sir _Feeb_. Dear's its nown dear Fubs; buss again, buss again, away, away--ods bobs, I long for Night--look, look, Sir _Cautious_, what an Eye's there!

Sir _Cau_. Ay, so there is, Brother, and a modest Eye too.

Sir _Feeb_. Adad, I love her more and more, _Ralph_--call old _Susan_ hither--come, Mr. _Bearjest_, put the Gla.s.s about. Ods bobs, when I was a young Fellow, I wou'd not let the young Wenches look pale and wan--but would rouse 'em, and touse 'em, and blowze 'em, till I put a colour in their Cheeks, like an Apple _John_, affacks--Nay, I can make a shift still, and Pupsey shall not be jealous.

_Enter_ Susan, _Sir_ Feeble _whispers her, she goes out_.

_Let_. Indeed, not I; Sir. I shall be all Obedience.

Sir _Cau_. A most judicious Lady; would my _Julia_ had a little of her Modesty; but my Lady's a Wit.

_Enter_ Susan _with a Box_.

Sir _Feeb_. Look here, my little Puskin, here's fine Playthings for its nown little c.o.xcomb--go--get you gone--get you gone, and off with this St. _Martin's_ Trumpery, these Play-house Gla.s.s Baubles, this Necklace, and these Pendants, and all this false Ware; ods bobs, I'll have no Counterfeit Geer about thee, not I. See--these are right as the Blushes on thy Cheeks, and these as true as my Heart, my Girl. Go, put'em on, and be fine.

[_Gives 'em her_.

_Let_. Believe me, Sir, I shall not merit this kindness.

Sir _Feeb_. Go to--More of your Love, and less of your Ceremony--give the old Fool a hearty buss, and pay him that way--he, ye little wanton t.i.t, I'll steal up--and catch ye and love ye--adod, I will--get ye gone--get ye gone.

_Let_. Heavens, what a nauseous thing is an old Man turn'd Lover!

[_Ex_. Leticia _and_ Diana.

Sir _Cau_. How, steal up, Sir _Feeble_--I hope not so; I hold it most indecent before the lawful hour.

Sir _Feeb_. Lawful hour! Why, I hope all hours are lawful with a Man's own Wife.